


Lethandhrel One-Eye: Arch-Mage

by ActuallyMin



Series: Lethandhrel One-Eye [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Dovahkiin - Freeform, Dragonborn - Freeform, Dunmer - Freeform, Elder Scrolls - Freeform, Gen, Skyrim - Freeform, Skyrim Side Questline, playthrough fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMin/pseuds/ActuallyMin
Summary: After the stress of saving the world twice, Lethandhrel decides a little study is in order, as a change of pace. As the College of Winterhold's newest apprentice, she soon learns that it's not that different from her previous adventures!
Series: Lethandhrel One-Eye [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713451





	1. Enrolment

Crossing the last item off of my list, I tuck my notebook away and stretch. I've done many things these past weeks; helped capture a fugitive, delved back into the Soul Cairn and aided Jiub find his book, and even started building a house, overlooking Lake Ilinalta. I gathered together Lydia and Serana and told them everything, and they understood, which relieved me greatly. After a few days, Serana wished to see more than just Skyrim, so we parted ways, and I headed up to Winterhold, out of curiosity about the College, and with vague intentions of joining. Lydia stayed in Whiterun, citing unfinished private business.

Leaving the Frozen Hearth into a chill wind, I brave the broken bridge, my step far surer than the last time I visited. The gates opening upon my approach, I pass the statue in the courtyard and encounter a woman stubbornly reading, holding the pages firmly. She looks up as my shadow falls upon the tome.

"Welcome to the College. I am Mirabelle Ervine." She introduces herself.

"I was told a while back to come and see you, regarding enrolment." I explain.

"Another new student... I'm surprised at how many of you there are lately. Well, first you'll need these." She pushes a set of robes into my arms, and sets a plain pair of boots atop them. "While you're not required to wear them, you may find them more to your liking than your current clothes. I'll give you a brief tour, and then we'll get you to your first class. Are you ready to begin?"

"I'd love to have a look around."

"Wonderful. Please, follow me, and don't wander off." Mirabelle heads towards the main tower of the fort-like complex, with me in tow. "The College of Winterhold has been a fixture in Skyrim of thousands of years. The prominent feature here is the Hall of the Elements. It's our primary location for lectures, practice sessions and general meetings. The Arcanaeum is located above the Hall and the Arch-Mage's quarters above that. While technically in charge of the College, the Arch-Mage's responsibilities often keep him occupied. Thus, I run the day-to-day operations. Now, if you'll please follow me, I'll show you the living quarters."

We head to a smaller tower to the left of the Hall.

"Unfortunately, we've had to implement more stringent entry procedures, due to some problems with the local Nords." She explains as we walk the short distance. "We don't anticipate any real violence, but it never hurts to be prepared. Our newest members are housed here, in the Hall of Attainment. I'll ask that you please keep your voice down while inside, as others may be working on research or... delicate experiments." She pushes open the wooden door and we head inside.

There are small rooms circling a central area, with another of the weird wells of blue stuff that decorate the bridge and the courtyard. Opposite the door is a staircase leading further up the tower. We head towards one of the small rooms, which turn out to be door-less bedrooms.

"Now I'll show you to your quarters. You're going to be sharing space with your fellow Apprentices, who you'll meet shortly. This is where you'll be staying. This bed and desk are yours. Now let's go back to the Hall of the Elements, where most of the members gather for lectures and study sessions."

"Can I have a minute to change my gear?" I ask, and receiving a nod in response, I'm left to unbuckle and stow my Dawnguard gear in my bag and don the robe and boots. I feel a tingle as the robes settle against my grey skin; obviously enchanted with what feels like a magicka boost. At least they're comfortable. And warm, as I discover as I step outside to meet Mirabelle.

"Initially, you'll be learning from Tolfdir, one of our most esteemed wizards." She picks up from where she left off, heading back to the Hall. "Tolfdir is likely already addressing the new Apprentices. Go on in, and if you have any problems, let one of our senior members know." She leaves, heading toward the other small tower, which I assume to be the instructor's quarters.

I enter the Hall and pass through another set of massive iron gates, into a huge round space, centred with another magic well. I spot a trio of robed figures on the other side, gathered around a greying Nord.

"Welcome, welcome!" Cries who I assume to be the eponymous Tolfdir upon my joining the group. "We were just beginning. Please, stay and listen. So, as I was saying; the first thing to understand is that magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous. Unless you can control it, it can and will destroy you."

"Sir, I think we all understand that fairly well." Interrupts an attractive Dunmer girl. "We wouldn't be here if we couldn't control magic!"

"Of course, my dear, of course. You all certainly possess some inherent natural ability. That much is not being questioned. What I'm talking about is true control; mastery of magic. It takes years, if not decades, of practice and study."

"Then what are we waiting for?" The Khajiit purrs impatiently, his whiskers twitching. "Let's get started!"

"Please, please! This is exactly what I'm talking about! Eagerness must be tempered with caution, or else disaster is inevitable."

"But we've only just arrived here – you've no idea what any of us are capable of." The young Nord next to me complains. "Why not give us a chance to show you what we can do?"

Tolfdir turns to face me. "You've been quiet so far. What do you think we should do?"

"Safety should be more important than anything."

"Well, your classmates certainly seem to disagree with you."

"Oh, don't listen to her. We can do it; just give us a chance!" says the Khajiit, waving a paw dismissively at me.

"All right, let's settle down. I suppose we can try something practical... In continuing with our theme of safety, we'll start with wards. Wards are protective spells that block magic. I'll teach you all a ward, and we'll see if you can successfully use it to block spells, alright?" Tolfdir again faces me. "Would you mind helping me with a demonstration? Are you at all familiar with ward spells?"

"I have a ward spell, but I've never really used it."

"That's what this lesson is for. Perfect time to try it out. Now, if you'll just stand right over there; I'll cast a spell at you, and you block it with the ward. Here we go."

We get into position, and I raise my hands and focus, raising a translucent barrier of rippling magic, and try not to flinch as Tolfdir's fireball smashes into it.

"Excellent work!" The old wizard cries as I drop the ward. "Well, I think this is an excellent start. I'd like you all to continue practicing with wards, please. I think perhaps we're ready to begin exploring some of the various applications of magic throughout history. The College has undertaken a fascinating excavation in the ruins of Saarthal nearby. It's an excellent learning opportunity. I suggest we meet there in a few hours, and see what awaits us inside. That's all for now; thank you." As he ambles towards the gates, the other students gather together.

"Hello! I'm Lethandhrel." I introduce myself, feeling a little awkward.

"I'm Brelyna, and this is Onmund." The Dunmer girl introduces herself and the Nord. "And the Khajiit is –"

"This one is J'zargo." He interrupts with a flourish. "You should remember that name; this one is to be the most powerful mage this College has ever seen!"

"I'm sorry I was late." I apologise. "I had other things to finish up first."

"You weren't that late." Onmund shrugs. "We'd only just finished introducing ourselves when you came, really."

"Come on, let's get started for Saarthal already. This one can't wait to make the most important discoveries!" J'zargo turns and strides away, leaving us to follow behind.

"That cat's going to be his own downfall." Brelyna whispers to me, before jogging to catch up with Onmund. I'm left at the back of the group, but I don't mind. It's nice to be the follower for a change!

As we pass through the town below, I excuse myself and duck into Birna's Oddments to sell off the excess weight I'm carrying, at a steep discount due to the lack of regular traffic the shop gets.

Upon leaving the shop, I discover the group hadn't waited for me – not that I had been expecting them to – and the wind had died down, so I follow the fresh footprints to a goat trail behind the Jarl's Longhouse, with the route lined by ancient, wind-pocked cairns. I can see what must be Saarthal in the distance, so I take a second to mark it on my map before continuing – and being jumped from behind by a spider, who must have been waiting specifically for me!

I decide that, as I'm now a student of magic, that shall be my main source of defence, with my sword as back-up for when my magicka runs too low. A simple lightning bolt should do it... and the spider goes blasting off into the distance. Ok, maybe that one was a little strong!

I reach the excavation not long after the others arrive, and descend the wooden ramps to the ancient entrance to the ruins, with Tolfdir waiting patiently outside.

"And here we all are." He proclaims as I join the class. "Shall we step inside?"

"What are we looking for?" I ask.

"Anything! Anything at all that might be of interest. That's why I adore this location... we have no idea what we're going to find. And, if along the way, my message about the dangers of magic should happen to sink in for a few students, that would be a happy coincidence." He glances pointedly at the trio beside me. J'zargo rolls his silver eyes.

"What's so important about this place?"

"We're particularly interested in the prevalence of magical seals placed on the tombs here. It's rather unlike anything we've encountered."

"I'm ready." I state. "Let's go." The others nod their agreement, Onmund somewhat reluctantly.

"Alright; please stay close to me while we're inside. It should be safe, but it's always better to be cautious." Tolfdir unlocks the door and we file inside behind him.

"As some of you may know, Saarthal was one of the earliest Nord settlements in Skyrim. The old mage lectures as we descend deeper into the still-musty ruins. "Sacked by the elves in the infamous 'Night of Tears', not much is known about what happened to Saarthal. This is an exciting opportunity for us. To be able to study such an early civilisation and the magics they used..."

As we reach the floor of the first room, Tolfdir turns and stops us. "Well, are there any questions before we begin?"

I gaze around at the silent trio. "We don't. What would you like us to do?"

"Ah, yes. Hmm..." Tolfdir thinks briefly, then focusses back on me. "Why don't you see if you can assist Arniel Gane? He's one of our scholars, here working on cataloguing our finds. I expect he'd appreciate some help in locating any additional magical artefacts here in the ruins. Any enchanted items will do; the usefulness of the enchantment is irrelevant. If you find anything the class can look it over." He turns to the others. "Now let's see. What shall we have the rest of you do? Brelyna, my dear, why don't you search for warding magics? Anything designed to keep people out. Don't interact with them, just identify them. Onmund, please search that area over there. See if you notice any residual energies. Alive or undead." The poor boy cringes, then heads in the indicated direction. "J'zargo... what shall we have you do... ah! Why don't you verify that we're the first ones here? Look for any amount of tampering with the tombs. All right, everyone! Let's be careful, but have fun." Tolfdir dismisses the rest of us, and I go searching for this Arniel Gane fellow.

I find him leaning against a table in an alcove above the next room, near where the passage branches into three.

"Well, certainly none of this will benefit my research..." He complains as he seemingly deeply studies the wooden surface of the table. I cough to get his attention.

"Tolfdir sent me to help you." I explain as he turns to face me, looking quite annoyed.

"What? Ah, yes. You're going to help? That's fine; just... just don't make a mess of my work. I've only looked through a portion of this section. You, uh... you can look around in the chambers just north of here. Try and be careful, alright? We don't want to damage anything."

I scour the indicated area, finding a trio of vaguely glittery rings, then spot an amulet perched in a conspicuous spot on the wall. As I lift the amulet from its resting place, I hear a sharp grinding noise, and turn to see the way back to the group blocked by narrow metal bars. I'm trapped!

"What in the world was that racket?" Cries Tolfdir as he hurries up. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm trapped in here!" I tell him.

"How in the world did that happen?"

"I pulled an amulet off the wall." I show him the offending item.

"Really? Perhaps the amulet is important somehow. Is there some way you can use it?"

It's still in good condition, for having sat on stone for thousands of years. Reluctantly, I clasp the amulet around my throat, replacing the amulet that Jiub had given me as a reward for my help. The wall where the amulet had resided clunks hollowly, and begins to shimmer much like the amulet is now doing.

"Do you see that?" Exclaims a now excited Tolfdir. "Some kind of resonance... you and the wall. It must be connected to the amulet! I wonder... what effect might your spells have?"

This seems like an incredibly stupid and dangerous plan, but I follow through, casting a small beam of fire at the wall the amulet came from. It shatters into large chunks and topples upon itself, and the bars behind me slide back into the floor. Without even a pause, Tolfdir comes charging past me and strides into the passageway the wall had revealed. Arniel just shrugs and turns away, leaving me to follow his colleague. I suppose it's better that it's me; I am the adventurer after all.

"Well this is highly unusual; and very interesting." Tolfdir says to himself as he navigates the twisting route. "Why in the world would this be sealed off? What is this place?"

The passage leads to a tiny room with a curved table in the centre. As I step into the room, everything turns grey, and with a ripple the shadowy figure of an orange robed fellow appears. Tolfdir has stopped completely still, as though as a statue.

"Hold, mage, and listen well." The apparition cries. "Know that you have set in motion a chain of events that cannot be stopped. Judgement has not been passed, as you had no way of knowing. Judgement shall be passed on your actions to come and how you deal with the dangers ahead of you. This warning is passed to you because the Psijic Order believes in you. You, mage, and you alone have the potential to prevent disaster. Take great care, and know that the Order is watching." With that proclamation, the tall elf disappears and everything returns to the dull brown of before. It seems that yet again the fate of the world rests on my shoulders!

"I... I swear I felt something rather strange just then." Tolfdir pipes up. "What just happened?"

"Some sort of ghost or apparition appeared. It spoke to me." I reveal.

"I'm afraid I didn't see anything... can you tell me more about what you saw?"

"It said something about dangers ahead, and the Psijic Order."

"The Psijic Order? Are you quite sure about that? That's very odd. And danger ahead? Why, that doesn't make any sense at all. The Psijics have no connection to these ruins. And no-one's seen any of their Order in a long time. Perhaps we should take a look inside these coffins. Now please do be careful; who knows what we're going to find."

As he concludes, the coffins behind us explode open, and out step a trio of rather miffed looking draugr. The trio speedily shuffle around the table towards me, ignoring Tolfdir for some reason. I think I know a spell that'll help...

Remembering the spell, I cast at the nearest, sending a bolt of lightning bouncing off of it towards its two companions, who stumble backwards into a fireball cast by the atronach Tolfdir has summoned. I have only enough energy left to cast once more before I resort to the ebony blade I wield, slashing with such ferocity I even surprise myself. I soon stand before a heap of tattered corpses, spattered with stale blood. A quick healing spell, then I follow the eager Tolfdir down the passage behind one of the coffins towards a large room.

"Be prepared to defend yourself." He says as I open the gate barring entrance, disturbing several draugr who were waiting for us in their coffins. Another short fight and they again rest, this time spreadeagled on the metal grate over a deep pit, the walls lined with sarcophagi. Looking up, I see the walls lead high, also covered in coffins.

"I've never seen anything like this in Nordic ruins before. Why, just look at all these coffins!" Tolfdir exclaims, almost as though we'd never fought any draugr at all. "This bears closer inspection. I'd like to stay a while and examine this. You, however, should press on. See if you can find whatever this vision of yours mentioned. But if it is truly dangerous, be careful. Go on ahead – I'll be sure and catch up with you before long."

Lucky I'm not one of his other students... I pull the pair of chains beside the door opposite the entrance, opening the way through the passage beyond. In the rooms beyond are several more draugr, who prove to be no match, and I also have to dodge a magical rune trap set on the floor. The next major obstacle is a hallway lined by the rotating pillars favoured for puzzles, and the way past is blocked by a metal grate.

It takes a little guesswork, as unlike other pillar puzzles, these pillars are connected in such a way that turning the wrong one the wrong time turns the other pillars too, undoing any progress made. I soon work it out however, and am able to continue onwards.

"I thought it high time I caught up with you." Tolfdir arrives behind me. Acknowledging him, I push open the old wooden doors to what has to be the ultimate room of the ruins.

Inside and down a ramp is a massive chamber encasing a huge glowing blue orb, encircled many times by unidentifiable runes. Seated in front of the orb is a draugr, a bit fresher looking than the ones we fought earlier. It's unmoving – for now.

"Well, now – would you look at that?" Tolfdir rushes ahead before I can stop him. I know what seated draugr tend to do. "I never imagined we'd find something like this. Why is this buried so far within Saarthal?" True to form, the draugr creaks upright, disturbed by the over-excited mage. It, of course, ignores the fellow and makes a beeline for me, pausing only to cast a cloaking spell on itself. I didn't even know they could do that!

I cast a lightning spell at it, and hack away with my sword, but nothing is harming it! Maybe we shouldn't have come here...

"Keep it busy!" My tutor yells from beside the globe. "I'll try to drain some of its power." He casts a continuous-cast spell at the orb, and it does seem to have some effect on its protector. "There! Now attack it!"

Already on it, old man. Without the protection of the orb's effect, my spells and my blade whittle the undead down until it lies crumpled at my feet. On a table near its erstwhile throne, I spot an old, faded piece of parchment. Curious, I carefully unfold it and read its contents.

Be bound here, Jyrik, murderer, betrayer. Condemned by your crimes against realm and lord. May your name and deeds be forgotten forever. And the charm which you bear be sealed by our ward.

Well, this is interesting. I make a note of my discovery in my notebook – maybe there's a book about this somewhere. There's always a book. Around the creature's shrivelled neck rests a chain bearing what looks to be a broken chunk of an amulet charm. I add this to my pack, alongside the unusual staff that rested upon the table beside the paper. Tolfdir, meanwhile, is still focussed on the orb.

"I'm not the only one seeing this, am I? Why, this is utterly unique."

"What is this thing?" I inquire.

"I have no idea! This is amazing, absolutely amazing. The Arch-Mage needs to be informed immediately. He needs to see this for himself. I don't dare leave this unattended. Can you return to the College and inform Savos Aren of this discovery? Please, hurry!"

I empty a large chest of its contents as I leave the room, as my compensation for clearing the ruin, and follow the passageways through to the first room, learning a Word from a Wall on the way – iiz, meaning ice. Sounds useful; I can't wait to try it out!

As I wander through the entry-room, I meet Arniel Gane, already headed for the exit.

"It's going to take forever to sift through all this." He mumbles.

"This was all I could find." I offer the rings.

"I see. It probably doesn't even matter now, what with the mess that's been made in here. I'll add these to the rest of the items; I don't think there's anything further I need from you." He slouches off. What a grumble-guts!

On the way back, a wandering skeever attempts an attack, but I use it as my test subject for my new Word, and leave it encased in ice behind me. Can't be bothered with the damn rats any more anyway.

Once back at the College, I climb up to the Arch-Mage's quarters and find the old Dunmer reading quietly. He stows the book as I approach, not seeming to mind my invasion of his privacy.

"You are relatively new here, are you not?" He comments in a smooth Mournhold accent. "I have noticed you, but we have not spoken."

"No, we haven't." I comment rather awkwardly.

"Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Savos Aren, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I am quite content to see nearly any aspect of magic explored and investigated here. But I do not and will not approve of any research or experiments that cause purposeful harm to your fellow members of the College. Are we clear?"

"Yes." I reply. "I need to speak to you about Saarthal."

"Please don't tell me that another one of the apprentices has been incinerated." What?! "I have enough to deal with right now."

"We found some sort of... orb." There's no other word for it. "Tolfdir wanted you to see it."

"I... see. I trust that Tolfdir will provide a more specific explanation." Savos says with a raised eyebrow. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Tolfdir normally looks after your little group, yes? Since he's apparently occupied, and I will need to see this discovery for myself, I think perhaps you should begin researching the subject. Speak with Urag in the Arcanaeum. See if he's aware of anything that matches your discovery. And – good work. The next time you find yourself exploring Nordic ruins, perhaps this will be helpful." Savos hands me a staff and hurries off. A quick test of the staff proves it casts a mage-light that sticks to the target surface. Eh – I've managed without so far.

It's starting to get dark outside, so I head down towards the Hall of Attainment, but am accosted by Faralda, the elf from the bridge, on the way.

"There you are." She cries. "I've been trying to find you. I just wanted to let you know that Ancano's been asking about you. I think he's looking for you." I cast my mind back... ah, yes, of course. The Thalmor 'advisor'.

"Why would Ancano be looking for me?"

"I'm not sure. Just... Well, mind what you tell him, alright?"

I'm not too inclined to talk to him in the first place. "Is there a problem?"

"No, no." Faralda quickly assures me. "Well, I don't think so. Between the two of us," She leans in conspiratorially. "there are rumours about him. That this 'advisor' position he has is a sham, an excuse. That what he's really doing is spying for the Thalmor, trying to feed them information. Whether it's true, I can't say. But it never hurts to be a bit suspicious, does it?"

He's Thalmor, of course he's spying. I'd be the first to admit I'm a little biased, though. "Thanks for the warning."

"You're welcome." Faralda smiles, then ambles off.

I continue my journey to the Hall of Attainment and locate my bed. We make instant friends.


	2. Fetch Quest

First thing next morning, I climb the narrow stone stairs up to the Arcanaeum. It feels like years since I came here for the first time, when in reality it's no more than a few months at most. Urag is where I expected to find him – behind the desk, reading a book.

"Yeah?" He grumbles upon my approach.

"I need to learn about something we found in Saarthal."

"I know what you want. Word travels fast around here. Discovered some big mystery, huh? Well, you don't even need to ask. No, I don't have anything for you. Not anymore, anyway."

"You don't have anything that can help?" I ask incredulously.

"I said not anymore." The librarian snaps. "Orthorn stole a number of books when he ran off to Fellglow Keep to join those summoners. Some kind of peace offering. I think one of those volumes may have had some relevant information. If you want them, you'll have to talk to Orthorn."

"Who is this Orthorn?"

"He was an apprentice here at the College. Not very skilled, but got involved with a group of mages who took a liking to him. When they left, he took off after them. Stole supplies and books from the College, I suppose as a way to ingratiate himself."

"Doesn't anyone care that Orthorn stole things from the College?"

"Not enough to bother with it. Arch-Mage Aren's approach to these things is to just let them sort themselves out. Although now it looks like you'll be doing the sorting. Good luck with that." Urag returns his attention to his book, and I turn and carefully descend the stairs.

After making my way back into Winterhold, I summon Arvak, who has been very helpful these past weeks when it comes to travel, and we start off towards the centre of the country, where a faint splotch on my map points out Fellglow Keep. So many old forts and castles and so few of them manned.

Since I'd last visited the town there must have been a battle between the Empire and the rebels, as Winterhold's guards have been replaced with Imperial soldiers. They don't do much different than the original hold guards, and even have the same complaints, so I honestly doubt anyone has even really noticed the change of command.

Just past a small mine, a trio of Solstheim cultists have a go at me – I really should deal with this at some point – and prove as futile in their endeavours as their now deceased friends. Arvak helps as best he can before the summons wears out – I still haven't quite gotten hang of mounted combat – and I finally slay the last one alone. The hold guard then ambles past as though nothing happened at all. Thanks for the help!

I pass Fort Kastav to the expected anti-social chorus from the soldiers stationed there, and head towards Windhelm, then turn right at the junction before the city bridge, heading now towards Whiterun. I dodge around an Imperial prison convoy and outrun a bear, and use the now deserted Valtheim Towers as a bridge towards my destination.

I dismount, and give Arvak a pat on his bony nose as the spell wears off again. Making the rest of the trek on foot, a wolf is my first opponent, springing out from behind a rock and latching onto my spell arm. Good thing my sword arm is still free, and I'm agile enough to use my foot to kick the canine free before running it through. I always feel a little guilty when I have to kill a wolf, but I do what I must. They're the only creature I haven't become fully desensitised to killing.

I reach the keep and am assaulted by a pair of mages with a flame atronach. Quite the warm welcome!

I don't think I'll be joining the Bard's College any time soon.

Leaving a smouldering heap and a pair of black-robed corpses behind me, I head into the fort's interior. My first opponents are a pair of spiders with their mage trainer, though he doesn't seem too upset when I electrocute them both to death. He's even foolish enough to stay put when I charge at him with my sword raised.

The next room is guarded by another inept mage, and once he's dead, I release the trio of vampires they held captive – for experimenting on, most likely – and they charge through another door to deal out their revenge on their captors. If it means fewer enemies for me, I'm all for it. And if the only way they show gratitude is by ignoring me, so be it.

Once the commotion has died down, I enter the large room to discover there were no survivors of the fight. Ah well; dying fighting is a better way to go than of starvation, torture or both, in my opinion. Leaving the mess behind, I follow the next passage and create one of my own when a mage sets his wolves on me. As I finish off the last of the unfortunate beasts, I spot in one of the cages a worried looking mage who can't be too much older than Onmund. This must be the infamous Orthorn. I pull on the levers in the centre of the room, opening all of the cages.

"Oh, you've saved me!" The man cries, stumbling out of his confinement. "Thank you so much. Who knows what they'd have done to me if you hadn't come along. I promise I'll help you get out of here."

"I don't want your help." I say as kindly as I can.

"Ah; I see. Well then I'll just stay behind you a little bit, and follow along quietly."

"You should get yourself to safety."

"Don't you need my help?" Orthorn asks almost dejectedly.

"I can handle this on my own."

"Well, I... if you're sure. I'll just be on my way then. Please do be careful, and thank you." He heads out the way I came in, and I head down the passageway nearby.

The rest of the ruins are filled with angry mages and atronachs, and even a few skeletons raised by a panicked wizard. I find a small library, so I take all of the legible books – Urag hadn't told me the titles of the ones stolen, and I'm sure he'd be grateful for a few extra copies of any others. One of the books I find is named 'Boethiah's Proving', and an interested skim provides me with the location of the shrine in Skyrim, so I make a note and continue my search.

I soon find myself in the central tower, and upon entering the uppermost room I find myself face to face with a person I'd overheard earlier being referred to as the 'Caller'.

"So, you're the one who barged into my home and laid waste to my projects. How nice to meet you." She says, sarcasm dripping thick.

"I'm here for the books from the College." I explain. Upon three pedestals arranged around the room are three well looked after books. These are most likely the ones Urag was talking about.

"So you're just one of Aren's lackeys." The Caller is saying. "That's disappointing. You show real promise. You come here, kill my assistants, disrupt my work. You've annoyed me, so I don't think I'll be giving you anything."

"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?" She looks stronger than her 'assistants'.

"I'm afraid you don't have anything worth trading. Now, you can go back to your College and leave me be, or I can kill you. Your choice."

"May I please have the books?" I struggle to keep exasperation out of my voice. I don't want to have to fight her, and my opponents don't usually want to die, with the exception of the occasional Orc.

"Oh, now we're all please and thank you, are we? I'm afraid we're well beyond pleasantries. I'll allow you the opportunity to turn around, walk out that door and never come back. I suggest you move quickly."

"Look, I didn't want to kill your assistants; they attacked me and I had to defend myself. You can easily replace the books, so let me leave with them and there won't be any more trouble."

The Caller sighs and crosses her arms. "Fine. Take them and be gone. Never return here, or else you'll face my full wrath." She struts off through a door at the back of the room, slamming it shut behind her, much like I did when I was a teen in Mournhold and upset at my family.

I grab the books and leave the fort. Upon reaching the road again, I summon Arvak and point him in the direction of Whiterun, then open up the one that caught my eye the most; 'Night of Tears'. This must be the one I needed most; it speculates on what happened when Saarthal fell to the elves and why, with a theory that the elves were after something hidden in the city.

Arvak's original owner was right; he is a very intelligent horse. I'd almost completely zoned out in my reading, and only came back to reality when the bony body beneath me stopped moving. I look up, and we're right outside the gates to Whiterun. I dismount and he vanishes with a quiet nicker.

I beeline to the Bannered Mare and rent the usual room.


	3. Monks and Middens

I left Whiterun the next morning to a crisp dawn and foggy breath. It's definitely the coldest Skyrim morning yet, which leaves me really not looking forward to winter.

A variety of creatures and even a drug addled Orc make it their mission to stop me reaching the College, as well as a dragon, whose soul helps thaw me out a little. I think it's rather telling of how skilled I have become at battle that I barely even take much notice of the fight; my train of thought is barely interrupted by even the dragon. Whoever said an adventurer's life was interesting obviously hadn't been one for very long!

I enter the Arcanaeum in time to hear the end of a heated conversation between Urag and a proud scholar, who must be from out of town.

"Hundreds of years have gone into assembling this collection. It's going to stay pristine, understand?" Urag was saying to the man, who huffed and stalked away as I approached the counter.

"Here are the books that went missing." I hand the trio over, along with the other books I'd collected at the fort. "And a donation, of sorts."

"Well, well. And you seem to be in one piece! Thank you. I'll look these over, and inform Mirabelle if I find anything relevant." One of the stolen books caught his eye. "'Night of Tears', eh? I remember this one. Well isn't that interesting. Did you read it yourself? If I recall it correctly, that has some interesting implications. You should mention that to Tolfdir. And... here. I suppose you've earned these." Urag handed over a set of books on various subjects. It seems rather odd to me that someone who is so protective of a library of books would give them away as... well, 'quest rewards' seems to be the most fitting term.

I head back downstairs and find Tolfdir gazing at the Eye of Magnus, which had been moved into the main hall, as though trying to set it alight with his mind. He wasn't making much progress.

"Urag suggested I come see you." I startle him from his reverie.

"Did he now? Does he have information about our wonderful discovery?"

"I found a certain book – 'Night of Tears'."

"Is that the one about something buried beneath Saarthal?" Tolfdir asks with one hand stroking the end of his knotted beard. "Something that Men and Mer fought over? I'll have to make a point of re-reading it; I don't recall the details." His attention returned to the glowing artefact. "I just can't seem to tear myself away. Whatever this is, its beauty is like nothing I've ever seen before. If you'd allow me to indulge myself for a moment, I thought I might make a few observations."

At an acquiescing gesture from me, he begins strolling around the orb in full lecturer mode.

"I'm sure you've already noticed the markings. They're quite unlike anything we've seen before. Ayleid, Dwemer, Daedric... not even Falmer. None of them are a match. Quite curious indeed. Now I'm not sure you're quite as attuned as I am, given my extensive years of experience, but can you feel that? This marvellous object; it practically radiates magicka, and yet it's unlike anything I've felt before. Arch-Mage Aren is already hard at work, and hopefully we'll have more information soon." As he finished, the Thalmor advisor strode into the room.

"I'm afraid I must intrude." Ancano apologises, almost convincingly. "It is urgent that I speak with your associate immediately."

"This is most inappropriate!" The old mage objects. "We are involved in serious research here!"

"Yes, I've no doubt of its gravity. This, however, is a matter that cannot wait."

"Well, I'm quite sure I've never been interrupted like this before... the audacity!" Tolfdir sighs. "I suppose we'll continue this at some later time, when we can avoid interruptions."

I approach the dark-robed elf.

"I need you to come with me immediately. Let's go." He says, more at me than to me.

"I don't understand what's going on."

"Really?" Ancano sneers. "Well, allow me to clarify the situation. I'd like to know why there's someone claiming to be from the Psijic Order here in the College. More importantly, I'd like to know why he's asking for you specifically. So we're going to have a little chat with him, and find out exactly what it is he wants."

"Why are you so concerned about this?" I ask as we reach the door to the stairs.

"I'll be the one asking the questions. All you need to know is that the Psijic Order is a rogue organisation, believing themselves to be above the law. They have clashed with the Aldmeri Dominion before, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen here."

Following the arrogant Mer up the narrow stairs, I recall my time hiding out in a small hut on the edge of Valenwood, following a job gone wrong. The black-furred Khajiit who was hiding with me, for different reasons, was telling me about their ancestor who, during the War of Three Factions in the Second Era, had fought for the Altmer Queen against a group of Altmer calling themselves the Veiled Heritance, and about how the Thalmor nowadays were just the Heritance risen again using the name of the Thalmor to give themselves legitimacy. After my experiences with the group, I've got to say, I believe him.

As we reach the door to the Arch-Mage's quarters, Ancano stops, and turns to face me.

"Now, you are going to speak to this... monk, and find out why he is here, and then he will be removed from College grounds." He pushes the door open, and we enter the room to find Mirabelle and Arch-Mage Aren standing with a man wearing the orange robes of the Psijic Order. Upon my approach, everything just... stops. Except for me and the monk.

"Please, do not be alarmed." He says. "I mean you no harm. I am Quaranir. It is good to meet you in person."

"What's going on? What happened to everyone?" I ask, resisting the urge to prod one of the immobile mages. I glance at Ancano behind me, and an impish idea dances into my head. Now if only I had a pen and some ink...

"I'd simply like to talk to you." Quaranir says as I return my attention to him. "I've given us a chance to speak privately, but I'm afraid I can't do this for long. We must be brief. The situation at your College is of dire importance, and attempts to contact you as have previously have failed. I believe it is due to the very source of our concern. This object... the Eye of Magnus, as your people have taken to calling it. The energy coming from it has prevented us from reaching you with the visions you have already seen. The longer it remains here, the more dangerous the situation becomes. And so I have come here personally to tell you it must be dealt with."

"If this is dangerous, then why don't you do something about it?" I interject.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You must understand, the Psijic Order does not typically... intervene directly in events. My presence here will be seen as an affront to some within the Order. As soon as we have finished, I will be leaving your College. I'm all too aware that my arrival has aroused suspicion, especially in Ancano, your Thalmor associate. Nevertheless, the Order will not act directly. You must take it upon yourself to do so."

"So what exactly is the problem?"

"As you may have learned, this object – the Eye – is immensely powerful. The world is not ready for it. If it remains here, it will be misused. Indeed, many in the Order believe it has already... Rather, something will happen soon; something that cannot be avoided."

"I'll help, but I don't know what to do."

"Unfortunately, the future is as obscured to us as it is to you. The overwhelming power of the Eye makes it difficult for us to see. I fear I have already overstepped the bounds of my Order, but I will offer this: seek out the Augur of Dunlain here in your College. His perception may be more coherent than ours."

"Who is the Augur of Dunlain?" I've certainly never heard of this fellow before.

"He was once a student here at the College. Now he is... something different."

Ok. "Where can I find this Augur?"

"I... I am unsure. He is somewhere within the College. Surely one of your colleagues must know his location. I am sorry I cannot provide you with further help, but this conversation requires a great deal of effort on my part. Now, I am afraid I must leave you. We will continue to watch over you, and guide you as best we can. It is within you to succeed. Never forget that." Upon his last utterance, everything around us returns to normal.

"I'm sorry, were you about to say something?" Aren says to the monk.

"Well? What is the meaning of this?" Ancano demands, barging past me.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand." Quaranir says, with a blank expression.

"Don't play coy. You asked to see a specific member of the College; here she is. Now what is it that you want?"

"There's been a misunderstanding. Clearly I should not be here. I shall simply take my leave."

"What?" The Thalmor seethes. "What trickery is this? You're not going anywhere until I find out what you're up to!"

"I am not 'up to' anything." The monk calmly replies. "I apologise if I have offended you in any way."

"We will see about this..." Ancano mutters through gritted teeth as he struts away. Quaranir wanders towards the stairs, and I approach the Arch-Mage.

"I'm... I'm not sure what happened." He says, dazed. "A monk from the Psijic Order, here, after all these years, and then he just leaves. I hope we didn't offend him somehow..."

"What did the Psijic want?" I ask, feigning casual curiosity.

"Beyond asking for you, he never said. Very strange indeed."

"Have you ever heard of the Augur of Dunlain?" I try to make it sound like something I heard of somewhere. I'm not sure I'm all that convincing.

"Has Tolfdir been telling stories again? I thought I made it quite clear that this was a subject inappropriate for conversation. Please, don't allow him to continue to discuss the subject." Aren walks over to his chair, and I trail back downstairs to find for the old wizard.

"Well now, there's a name I haven't heard in some time." He says when I broach the subject. "My goodness, it's been years since I've spoken with him. I suppose he's still down in the Midden, but I haven't checked. Are you going to see him? Do tell him 'hello' from me, won't you?"

"Where is the Midden?"

"Underneath the College. It's not the nicest place, so if you go down there, please do be careful."

Bidding farewell, I search the College until I find a trapdoor which I assume leads to the Midden. Its rusty hinges squeal as I heave the heavy door open, and it slams gladly after I drop the short distance inside.

The Midden is a maze of snow-dusted passages and small rooms, but navigation is made easier by mage-lights floating above tiny braziers set on the walls. In one of the few larger rooms, I find an odd apparatus set up, with a small notebook on a nearby table, titled 'Atronach Forge Manual. Curious, I flip the book open and find a handwritten note on the inside cover.

Nephew- I apologise that I cannot see you personally before you leave. The trip from Sadrith Mora is treacherous this season, or I would have visited upon hearing the news. The Nords have a fine college at Winterhold, and I am sure you will excel. You may know that I, too, attended there. I was quite the conjuration adept in my day. I am sending you my notes on something called the Atronach Forge, a bit of a project of mine while at Winterhold. Mention nothing to the faculty, but ask your fellow pupils about a place called the Midden. You will find the Forge there. I fear a number of my notes are missing, scattered and lost in my travels around Skyrim. Perhaps you may stumble across these in your own adventures.

I skim through the rest of the book – the foreword is brief, detailing what the Forge looks like and its basic function, and it's quite obvious several pages have fallen out – and tuck it away in my bag before I continue onwards.

From a snow drift bursts an ice wraith, so I prepare a fire spell and have at it, slowly melting the swift creature as it darts at and around me. After what feels a little like a year, but can't have been more than a couple minutes at most, I'm damp and standing in a large shallow puddle. And am thoroughly frozen through.

Experimentally, I cast the Flame Cloak spell I learnt ages ago, and it dries me and warms me as I hoped it would. It also alerts me to the presence of a draugr which attempted to sneak up behind me, snarling in pain upon contact with the magical fire.

I snap around and swing my sword in the same motion, swiftly beheading the unfortunate corpse. Well, that was easy.

At the end of a dark, narrow passage, I reach a locked door. I reach into my bag for my picks, and am interrupted by a deep echoing voice:

"Your perseverance will only lead to disappointment."

I hesitate, then withdraw my hand from my bag.

"Still you persist?" The voice continues. "Very well; you may enter." The door clicks, and drifts open on surprisingly silent hinges. Inside, hovering above an empty magicka well, is a huge ball of glowing blue-white energy. I'll have to ask Tolfdir about what happened to change the Augur from a man into... this.

"So you're the Augur of Dunlain?" I ask, just to make sure I'm talking to the right creature.

"I am that which you have been seeking. Your efforts are in vain. It has already begun. But those who have sent you have not told you what they seek. What you seek." The light pulses as it – he – speaks.

"And what is it I'm seeking?"

"You seek that which all who wield magic seek – knowledge. You shall find this: knowledge will corrupt. It will destroy. It will consume. You seek meaning, shelter in knowledge. You will not find it. The Thalmor sought the same thing, and it shall lead to his end as it has so many others."

"I'm not the first to come see you?"

"No, though you may be the last. The one who calls himself Ancano has sought my knowledge as well, through very different questions. Your path differs from most. You are being guided, pushed towards something. It is a good path; one untraveled by many. It is a path that can save your College. I will tell you what you need to know to follow it further."

"What do I need?" I shift my weight from one side to the other, to give my leg a rest. I need to find a more comfortable way to stand...

"You, and those aiding you, wish to know more about the Eye of Magnus. You wish to avoid the disaster of which you are not yet aware. To see through Magnus' Eye, without being blinded, you require his Staff. Events now spiral quickly towards the inevitable centre, so you must act with haste. Take this knowledge to your Arch-Mage." With that, the light dims and vanishes, leaving dancing spots that shift with every movement of my eyes.

My vision clearing, I return to the maze of the Midden and try to work my way back to the surface. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, however, as I discover myself in a different large room, this one with an obsidian gauntlet in the centre. A nearby table has a notebook atop it, which I of course read.

The missing students were found in the Midden this morning. Dead, as expected. None of us bothered keeping a Detect Life charm for the search at this point. The bodies were found together, each suffering the same deformities; peeled and bubbling skin on the arms and face. Conjurer's burn, as it's commonly referred to around the College. There's little doubt they were attempting a summoning ritual well beyond their capabilities. The relic nearby put any doubt in this theory to rest. I admit I've never seen one like it – a large, segmented sculpture of a gauntlet, the Daedric sigil 'O' emblazoned upon the palm. Attempts to move it were in vain. I must show it to Arch-Mage Sedoth during his upcoming visit. Perhaps he will know more. While we couldn't move the relic, I was able to pry four 'rings' from it. I'm sure there's a connection between them and the ritual the students were attempting. I'll store these in the Arcanaeum until we can consult with a conjuration master to learn more.

Oh. I skirt around the gauntlet warily – can never be too careful! – and continue my search for the exit.

I eventually emerge, and head straight for where I'd last seen Savos Aren.

"I have important information for you." I say, causing him to raise an eyebrow at me.

"Really? And what might that be?"

"We need to find the Staff of Magnus."

"I'm sorry, what? Well, I'd certainly love to have such a powerful staff, but I'm not really sure that any of us need it." He scoffs.

"It's connected to the orb we found."

"And how do you know of this?"

"I spoke with the Augur of Dunlain."

His other eyebrow rises to match the first. "Did you really? And he specifically mentioned the Staff of Magnus? I... I'm impressed with your initiative. Of course, someone will need to follow up on this."

I know where this is going. "You mean me, don't you?"

"I certainly do. Since you went so far as to seek out the Augur for advice, I thought you'd be more enthusiastic. Something as specific and ancient as the Staff of Magnus... I'm not sure we'd ever find something like that... I seem to recall Mirabelle mentioning the Staff somewhat recently. Why don't you see if she can tell you anything?"

Aren turns away, pauses, then turns back. "I'm quite pleased with your progress, you know." He says. "You've certainly proven yourself to be more than a mere Apprentice. Well done." He reaches into a nearby drawer and pulls out a glimmering round object. "This circlet once proved invaluable to me; I hope it can be of use to you now." He presses it into my hands and wanders off towards a walled off area.

A glance outside the window tells me it's getting dark, and my eyes are starting to feel a bit dry, like they do when I'm tired, so I head to my bunk in the Hall of Attainment, and after stowing my new jewellery in my bag, I drift off to sleep.


	4. Weird Alchemy

Leaving my alcove room the next morning, I find Mirabelle reading nearby.

"Do you know anything about the Staff of Magnus?" I ask, after the usual greetings.

"Well, now that's an odd question. Why in the world would you be asking?" She closes her book around her finger to mark her place.

"It may be connected to the Eye of Magnus."

"The Eye of Magnus? I can appreciate that this... thing, this orb... it's very impressive, very unique and definitely worth studying; but let's not jump to conclusions, or assign it importance beyond what we're certain of." She admonishes.

"Sorry. So, the Staff?"

"Well, it's said to be very powerful. Has the capacity to store an incredible amount of magical power, as the story goes. But it's more myth than anything at this point. I've no doubt that it actually exists, but no-one has seen it in what, decades? Longer? I'm not sure. The only time I've heard it mentioned was when those Synod characters showed up some months ago looking for it."

They sound familiar, but I can put my finger on it – some residual effect of my amnesia, no doubt.

"Who are the Synod?" I ask.

"Mages based out of Cyrodiil." Mirabelle adjusts the book's position, nearly losing her place as her grasp loosens. "They fancy themselves the Imperial Authority on magic these last few hundred years. My understanding is that all they really do is make noise in an attempt to curry favour from the Emperor. Lots of politics, little magic. I was quite surprised to find them on our doorstep. They seemed amiable enough, but their line of questioning made me... uneasy. It became clear they're trying to hoard powerful artefacts, looking to consolidate power."

"So no-one knows the Staff's location?"

"No-one here does. The Synod seemed convinced it was somewhere in Skyrim. They inquired about the ruins of Mzulft, but that's all I remember. It sounded like they were headed there, though they were rather secretive about why. I suppose if you're intent on looking for the Staff, there's a chance they might be in Mzulft yet. Just don't expect them to be cooperative." She resumes reading. What happened to the traditional conversation endings, like farewells?

I leave the College and head off out of the small town. On the way along the road, I'm accosted by a small group of Falmer, who retreat inside a cave upon realisation they're no match for me. It's too late for them though, I'm seeing red and I march into the cave and hunt down every last one. It's all for the best interests of the people of Skyrim; with these poor creatures out of the way the roads are a little safer – at least until something else moves into the cave.

Once I emerge from the twisting caves, I decide to pause in Windhelm before I head towards the ruins marked on my map in faded brown ink. I often wonder who the previous owner of this map was before they joined the Stormcloaks and perished at Helgen, that they would have such an extensively marked map of such apparent age. It's well preserved but obviously also well used, as most of the original notations have faded to a dull brown at darkest, making my additions and overwriting stand out in the deep black ink I use. I'll have to overwrite the rest of it at some point, make it completely legible again.

A trio of cultists – I really should deal with this insane group soon – and a bear are not enough to halt my progress and I am soon at the market in Windhelm selling my spare loot. I'm a little low on magicka potions, so I duck into the White Phial to top up.

"I'll be fine." An old elf is assuring a worried Cyrodiil lad behind the counter. Judging by his paleness, which is apparent even through his golden Altmer skin-tone, and his wheezing, he isn't as 'fine' as he insists.

"Master, you're far too old for this sort of journey. We don't know what's inside." His apprentice retorts. I lurk near the door, reluctant to interrupt. I've never had much luck interrupting arguments; earning many an angered backhand in my youth for 'getting underfoot'.

"I'll..." The elf's attempt at an answer is continually interrupted by a hacking cough. "I can... just..."

"You see, you're not well! Have a seat and I'll fetch you some tonic." The worried boy hurries off into a small side room.

"Bah! If there was a tonic that could help me, I would have found it by now..." The aged Altmer turns towards me as he catches his breath once more, and I approach the counter.

"Hello!" He greets me as cheerfully as he can manage, though I have no doubt he knew I was there the whole time. "Welcome to the White Phial. Feel free to browse my wares, and if you have any questions, just ask me, Nurelion, or my apprentice Quintus."

"What are you arguing about?" I ask, concerned.

"Just a man's life's work, is all! I've finally derived the location of the White Phial, but this doting busybody won't let me get it." The busybody in question sighs as he re-enters the room, and sets a small bottle down in front of the old alchemist before seating himself at a small table in the corner of the room.

"He's not talking about the shop, if you were wondering." Quintus says, upon realising my gaze rested on him. "It's an artefact many alchemists would die to get their hands on, if you'll pardon the expression." That clarifies things.

"If you tell me where it is, I can get it for you." I offer. "Put your apprentice's worries to rest; plus I have plenty of experience in this sort of work."

"You would do that?" He smiles as I nod. "It's good to know there are some people out there who are willing to help an old man. It's buried with its maker, Curalmil, in a long forgotten cave to the west of here. Curalmil was a crafty one, even in death. You would need the skills of a master alchemist to reach its resting place. Luckily for you, I've already made the mixture. Here; take it." He pulls out a bottle of what was once Alto Wine, but now it holds a thick green fluid. "Please, don't dally. I've wasted enough of my time arguing with my useless assistant here."

I can spare a little time, and Nurelion certainly hasn't much left, so instead of heading to the Dwemer ruin, I head back west to the small cave that Quintus had pointed out on my map, marked for some reason as Forsaken Cave.

It turns out this cave isn't as small as it seems, but appears so when you have two upset bears charging at you! Casting my chain lightning spell a couple of times deals with the first easily before the pair reach me, and softens up the second enough that a single swing of my sword is enough to slay it.

The back of the cave opens onto the entrance of a typical Nord tomb, so I prepare myself mentally for the usual onslaught of draugr and push onwards.

I was right. The shrivelled undead attempt to impede my progress in every room of the tomb, to no success but actually even a little amusement as they set off their own traps in their hurried attempts to stop me. The deeper into the tomb I go, the fewer draugr I encounter, until I finally enter a large room with a Word Wall at the back, framing the large sarcophagus that has 'Curalmil' engraved on the side in faded draconian script. I'm getting better at reading the dragon-like scratchings, especially since I've been making an effort to learn it; mainly out of curiosity but also because I feel I may as well, since I've learnt a few words automatically, being Dragonborn.

As I had expected, as I approach the Word Wall the coffin explodes open and out climbs the desiccated alchemist, who is decked out in the equipment I've seen used by other important corpses in other crypts. Unusual for an alchemist. An alchemist who, as I discover as I ready my spell, can Shout. Something I also didn't expect. The ancient people of Skyrim were a weird bunch.

Ducking away from the blast of his Thu'um, I cast and cast at the shrivelled shape until I have no more magical energy left, before lathing him with my own fiery Shout and following up by decapitating him. He ended up more staggered than I would have been had he hit his target; between my spells and my Fire Breath, his Shout was the only attack he managed.

After I learn the Word on the Wall, I notice a slab of wall that's different from the rest, with an empty basin placed in front of it. Experimentally, I let a little of Nurelion's concoction drip into the basin, and the wall shifts slightly, so I empty the bottle and the wall vanishes, revealing a small room with a cracked, pearlescent vial placed prominently on a narrow pedestal in the centre. Oh dear.

Wrapping what can only be the White Phial in the bear pelts I'd harvested earlier, fur-side in, I tucked it carefully into my pack and left the tomb, returning swiftly to Windhelm.

At the base of the bridge, the travelling Khajiit have set up camp, so I sell what few valuables I'd gathered from Forsaken Cave, then pause to watch the spectacular sunset through the dancing Aurora. Skyrim may be damn cold, but it a beautiful place. When you're not fighting bears, or wolves, or bandits...

I find the alchemy shop closed and locked up for the night, so I instead stop off at Candlehearth Hall and rent the room.


	5. Mzulft

The next morning, I wander over to the alchemist's, and climb the stairs inside to find Nurelion sat in front of the fire with his breakfast.

"I've brought the Phial, but it's damaged." I give him the pearlescent bottle, and he frowns at the large, deep spider web-like cracks.

"This... it matches every description of the phial that I've found in lore. But if it can't hold liquid, there's no way of knowing. How did you manage to damage it then? This is what I get for not retrieving it myself."

"It was like this when I found it."

"Figures – I doubt you'd have sufficient knowledge to harm the phial even if you wanted to." From my experience with Curalmil, what's to say his final act wasn't to damage the phial himself to prevent others from having it? "Either way, this is the end of it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm not quite in the mood to entertain guests. I trust you can show yourself out. Here's for your trouble." He gives me a meagre handful of coins and turns his back to me.

I descend the stairs, but am stopped at the door by his apprentice.

"I want to thank you for your help." Quintus says. "I know my master can be a bit short at times."

"I was happy to help." I reply, carefully monotonous to hide my disappointment in the elf's reaction.

"Here; you should have this." The young man hands me a small pouch of gold; a much better remuneration than that of the one who wanted the damn phial in the first place. "Even though the Phial was damaged, I still think that your efforts deserve reward. Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to tend to Nurelion. I can make his final days a bit less painful."

I leave the city to a clear sunrise and a brisk wind in my face. Summoning Arvak, I head towards Mzulft, speeding past the wandering wildlife before it even registered my presence, which made a nice change from being attacked every couple of miles. I reach my destination in a couple of hours, and leaving Arvak to vanish behind me, I heave open the huge Dwemer doors and enter Mzulft, to a pair of deceased Falmer and a soon-to-follow mage.

"Crystal... gone..." The poor man chokes as my shadow falls on him. "Find Paratus... in Oculory..." He shudders his final breath, and is gone.

His hand falls open revealing a key, so I unlock the door behind him, tuck it into my belt and follow the passage, defeating an attempted interception by a pair of dwarven spiders as I go.

The ruin is a huge maze of twisted passages, ore-riddled caves and collapsed hallways, swarmed by Falmer and their chaurus pets and dotted with dead mages. Being the profit driven person I am, I loot everything valuable I see, and mine as much ore as I can, dancing around the traps set up by both the Falmer and the original Dwemer owners.

As I explore, I reflect on how hum-drum this whole experience has become. I barely notice my surroundings anymore when dungeon-delving, and thinking is on hold during battle. I don't have to focus on my reactions to attacks anymore; it's all become solely instinctual. Is it my dragon-blood, or merely experience that is to blame? Come to think of it, I haven't even seen a dragon in quite some time.

I push open the door to the next major section and continue.

Have all the dragons been avoiding humanity in the off-chance I'm nearby? Not that I'm complaining; it's nice to not have to worry about collateral damage due to dragon attacks. It is still worrying however; does this mean Paarthurnax is succeeding in spreading his Way of the Voice, or are they just biding their time until I'm busy elsewhere to attack in force elsewhere?

Of course, I could just be being paranoid and I just haven't been in the right parts of Skyrim recently.

After clearing a large room of Falmer and cleaning out the unlocked side-passages, I approach the last locked door. As the lock clicks open, a relieved voice calls out from the other side that I assume belongs to Paratus.

"Gavros, is that you? I'd almost given up hope! Let me get the door." The metal swings open, and the man's expression changes immediately into confusion. "What the..? Who are you? Where's Gavros? What are you doing here? What have you done with Gavros?"

I finally get a word in edgeways. "Your friend Gavros is dead."

"It was the Falmer wasn't it? Curse them! They've ruined everything! If Gavros is gone, there is no hope. He was supposed to return with the crystal... without that, all our efforts are wasted. And you; if you're here for treasure, or wisdom or anything, I'm afraid you've wasted your time."

"What's this about a crystal?" I ask, thinking about the round object I'd taken from one of the bodies in the room behind me.

"It didn't work the first time. I tried to tell Gavros, but he wouldn't listen. 'No; it won't be too cold' he said. Well, I was right, wasn't I? Focussed completely wrong by the time we got here! The cold had warped it! Gavros had to cart it all the way back to Cyrodiil. Left the rest of us here to fend off the damnable Falmer."

"I happen to have found a crystal. Is this what you were looking for?" I proffer the blue orb, and Paratus gasps.

"You found... how in the world..? That's it; that's it! I don't know who you are, but you may have just saved this little project! In fact, who are you anyway?"

"I'm with the College of Winterhold."

Paratus' face falls once more. "You are, are you? Savos wouldn't even grant us an audience when we came to you, but now you come here expecting something from me? I don't much like this, I'll tell you. But you saved my skin, so maybe I could overlook the past for now. Come on; I'll explain on the way."

The haggard mage leads me towards an Orrery, extremely similar to the one in Blackreach.

"No matter what Gavros said, this was my idea first." He continues as we walk. "The Council is going to know that when I get back. I was the one who thought of using this... this Oculory. I don't know what the Dwarves called it. Something unpronounceable, I'm sure. From all our research, it seems they were intent on discerning the nature of the divine. This machinery, all of it, was designed to collect starlight, and then... I'm not sure. Split it somehow? It was my idea to replace one of the key elements with our focusing crystal. Months of enchantments went into it. Let's just hope they got it right this time." He stops at the base of the control panel, a trio of buttons. "Here it is. Magnificent, isn't it? Took an incredible amount of work to get it running again. Now I'm hoping it'll all be worth it. Place the crystal in the central apparatus, and we can start the process for focusing it."

I wedge the orb into place then head behind the controls, picking up the spell books behind me – Paratus doesn't seem to mind. I take a minute to examine the Oculory. Ok, I think I know what I have to do.

Judging by the spells I just wedged into my bag, I need a fire and a frost spell, so I ready one in each hand and aim at the crystal until the reflected starlight is aimed in the middle of the rings encircling the ceiling. Then I press buttons until the ring they control lines up with the beams. With a clunk, another, larger beam of light hits the wall beneath me, and both Paratus and I go to investigate.

"Years of work, finally going to pay off... but what's this?" His triumphant beam dissolves as he examines the results.

Projected onto the wall is a map of Skyrim and northern Cyrodiil, with a bright spot glowing where Winterhold is and another in the central mountain range of Skyrim, about where Whiterun hold borders with Hjaalmarch.

"These results..." Paratus grumbles. This man needs desperately to return to civilisation; the isolation of waiting for Gavros alone has wreaked havoc on his emotional control. I know how that feels. "They're not at all what they should be. This projection should be lit up like the night sky... Something is creating an incredible amount of interference." He directs a glare at me. "Something in Winterhold, it looks like. What are you playing at? Is this some attempt to stall my work?! So, what is it? What have you done? Did you know what we were attempting? Are you here to make sure your plan worked; that our efforts have been for nothing? Well; Explain yourself!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" I cry. "I don't even know what you were trying to do! For all I knew this is exactly what this thing is supposed to do!"

"You show up here just as our work nears completion and now I can't get any results from this because of something at your College. Do you think me a fool? Do you think I'm too stupid to make the connection? You've ruined my work! How did you do it?"

"I haven't done anything, I swear!" I'm having trouble regulating my volume; I don't want to accidentally Shout at the guy, no matter how frustrating he is. I have to remind myself it's not my fault he's so tense.

"But it must be something you're doing. There's no other explanation... You have something at your College, don't you? Something immensely powerful; beyond anything I've anticipated. What is it?"

I have a feeling Paratus wouldn't be very open about what the Synod would be doing, so I choose to reciprocate that. "We might have something, yes."

"Well now." He calms down and becomes more thoughtful. "This I hadn't considered. If that's taken into account, these results make more sense..."

"What are you talking about?" Did I misjudge him?

"You're looking for something, yes? The... Staff of Magnus? Well, even if you are trying to ruin my work, there's still something to be learned here. I can't explain the details; that would be giving away many secrets the Synod has learned over the years." No, I did not. "Also, I doubt you would be able to comprehend the details. Have you ever seen the Orrery in the Imperial City?" Once; on a job. "It was the inspiration for this idea. Instead of projecting the sky, we project all of Tamriel, and then harness the latent energies to overlay the positions of... What's important is that all of this work was designed to reveal to us sources of great magical power. Purely to help safeguard the Empire, of course." Of course. It seems the Synod have confused power with security.

"And yet, in the end, only two locations have been revealed to us." Paratus continues. "One is your College; the other... Well, that can only be Labyrinthian. So, mage from Winterhold. Despite your intentions, I've beaten your little game. Even if all you've said here is lies, I know you have something in Winterhold the Synod Council will be very interested in. So fine. Trudge off to Labyrinthian in search of your Staff. I shall return to Cyrodiil and deliver my full report to the Council." Who hopefully will immediately place you on psychiatric leave, if they give a damn. "This is not over, I assure you."

"So the Staff of Magnus is in Labyrinthian?" I ask, just to confirm. No harm, right?

"Well, yes; probably. I mean, yes; certainly it is, but that doesn't matter now, because I know you're hoarding something even more important at your College. The Council will be informed of this. They will find out what you're up to." Paratus finishes his little rant with a self-satisfied nod, and silently wishing him good luck with that, I turn and leave. At the nearby shortcut out of Mzulft, yet another Psijic appears.

"You have done well this far, but trying times are ahead." He says. More trying than the conversation I just left behind? Wow. "It is imperative that you return to your College at once. You will be called on to take swift action. Rise to the challenge, and discover what you are capable of. You are on the right path, and you will prevail." The mage vanishes, and I leave.

I carefully slide down the steep slope from the exit, and upon reaching the road, I summon Arvak and reach Kynesgrove as the last of the light vanishes behind the western mountains. I definitely need some sleep after that!


	6. Proven Mistrust

On the way back to Winterhold, I stop off in Windhelm to sell my loot. Of course, being so early, I have to hang around in the cold for a few hours waiting for the shops to open, so I use the time to get a bit of smithing practice in, making a load of iron daggers and hide bracers to add to my pile of excess.

The road to Winterhold is, as is now usual, quiet; the only encounter I have is with a Dawnguard supply runner fighting off a hungry bear. With my help we both are able to safely continue on our separate ways; she to a supply drop and I past the idiots at Fort Kastav and speedily past a trio of cultists. Thanks to the Shout taught to me by the Greybeards, I am gone before they even knew I was there.

Reaching the College, I discover quite the commotion, with mages scurrying to and fro across the courtyard. Entering the Hall of Elements, I find out why.

Savos and Mirabelle are standing together, staring at the shimmering blue barrier preventing their entrance into the hall proper. Beyond, I see Ancano, casting intently at the Eye.

"I don't know." Mirabelle is saying. "It's like a ward, but who's casting it? Ancano? How?"

"I don't care what it is, I want it down now!" Savos replies. "I want to know what he's doing in there!" Mirabelle begins casting a continuous spell at the barrier while I speak with the Arch-Mage.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Ancano. He's in there, doing... something. We don't know what. We're trying to get in now. I will have his head for this, I assure you. Help take this down, will you? We're throwing everything we can at it."

He and I emulate Mirabelle, and the barrier is soon overcome. We charge in, surrounding Ancano, who continues his assault on the Eye.

"What's going on?!" The petite Breton demands.

"Ancano! Stop this at once! I command you!" The Arch-mage is also ignored. Savos attempts to approach the treacherous Thalmor.

"Don't go near him!" Mirabelle shrieks, as a huge pulse of energy blasts from the Eye, sending us all flying, colliding heavily with the stone columns behind us.

As my head clears, and it becomes more obvious that some time has passed since the pulse, I see Mirabelle slumped nearby, gazing worriedly at me. How long was I out?

"Are you alright?" She asks. "Can you walk? I need you on your feet. We're in trouble here."

"I think I'm ok..." I stumble to my feet, leaning on the stone for support.

"Ancano is doing something with that thing... the Eye. We can't stop him! I haven't seen Savos since the explosion. He must have been blown clear, and he may be injured. I need you to find the Arch-Mage, and I need you to do it quickly. Get moving!"

"What happened?" I notice how she holds her side, keeping her breathing shallow. Not good.

"I'll be fine. I just need a minute to catch my breath. Find Savos..."

I don't want to cause any further discomfort, so leaving her I head back out into the courtyard, where the other college members stand surrounding a grey mass lying several feet from the open doors. Oh no...

"What happened?" One of them asks. "He's not..?"

Tolfdir looks up at my appearance, and hurries over. "Are you alright? What happened in there?"

"It's Ancano." I explain. "He's done something with the Eye."

"By the Nine!" My mentor curses. "Is he responsible for this? The Arch-Mage, dead? There's more. Something's happened to Winterhold. It must be whatever Ancano did. You need to get out there and make sure it's safe. Quickly now, quickly! I'll find Mirabelle and see if we can't put a stop to this!"

I rush towards the bridge, where Faralda waits with another mage, both staring down at the town.

"What's going on?" The tall elf asks as I pass." What happened in there?"

"Something went wrong. Winterhold may be in danger. Can you help?" I pause my descent from the bridge.

"It 'may' be in danger?" Faralda snarks back. "Take a look; I don't think there's much question. Let's get down there. We have to do something. Come on, Arniel, let's go."

"Do we have to?" He complains as we navigate the icy slope of the bridge. "They'd never lift a finger to help us." Faralda glares at the balding man, and he quiets down.

We step down onto the frozen cobbles to find the tiny town assaulted by glowing, bright blue wisp-like things. I draw my blade and set to, casting with one hand and taking swings at others passing with the other. They don't seem to be that dangerous, really, but I can see how they could be concerning. Each one dies with a small explosion, falling into little dusty heaps. Soon, the town is covered with the heaps, and Faralda and Arniel stand panting, accompanied by a recently-slaughtered chicken that Arniel had raised. As if a deceased flightless bird would have been any help against things that flew a good two feet above its head!

I return to the College and find Mirabelle standing in the entryway of the Hall of Elements, an empty phial in hand.

"Well, is everything out there alright?" she demands.

"Winterhold is safe, for now."

"Wish I could say the same for us. Tolfdir and I can try and keep this contained. You need to get your hands on the Staff of Magnus, now."

"Then I'm off to Labyrinthian." I turn to leave again, but am interrupted by Mirabelle's surprised exclamation.

"What? Are you sure? The Staff is there? That can't be a coincidence."

"I don't understand. What coincidence?"

"Savos. Before... before he died, he... he gave me something just a little while ago. He told me it was from Labyrinthian, and that I would know what to do with it when the time came." She wipes away a tear, then begins rummaging in her hip pouch. "I think... I think he meant this for you, then. I'm not sure why, but there was something very personal about it for him. Also, I think you should take this amulet. It belonged to Savos, but I think it would do you the most good now. Take it, and get out of here. Bring back that Staff before Ancano brings the whole College down around us."

I take the amulet and what seems to be a torc of some sort and start a careful jog back down into the town before I summon Arvak once more and we dash for the fabled ruins, dodging everything in our way.

I've read stories of this place, of how it was one of the hiding places for a piece of the Staff of Chaos, and the location's role in the story of the Eternal Champion, who saved Uriel Septim VII from his evil chancellor Jagar Tharn. I was always thankful for Cousin's letters, and how he'd almost alternate between recounts of his own numerous adventures and stories and legends he'd heard over the years and throughout his travels that he thought I'd enjoy. We we're all quite concerned when his letters suddenly stopped, especially since the last one had been a confusing ramble about poetry, order and something called the Greymarch...

We finally reach the fabled ruins, and as Arvak fades behind me I discover the place to be infested with frost trolls. Ugh.

I fight my way to the centre of the complex, to find a small room dominated by a strange sculpture with a skeleton lying at the foot, grasping a wooden copy of a dragon priest's mask. An Orcish dagger rests between two of its ribs, and a tattered note rests beside it.

From a quick scan of the scrawled letters, I gather that these are the remains of a scholar of some sort who had neglected to fill his mercenary bodyguards of the nature of the mask, and said mercs had gotten fed up with his constant vanishing. I tuck the mask into my bag, and head towards a tall, wide staircase leading to an equally massive door. Which is missing its handle. As I head for the door, I am surprised by a small troupe of spectres that appear around me.

"Come on, we're finally here!" Cries one that looks a lot like a young Savos Aren. It even sounds like him... "Let's not waste any more time!"

"Are we truly sure this is a good idea?" The Argonian ghost responds.

"We'll be back at the College before anyone even knows we're gone." One of the others answers.

"You would care about that, since you're the Arch-Mage's favourite!"

'Don't forget, this whole idea was Atmah's to begin with." I'm pretty sure it is Savos I see, currently gesturing towards the confident Redguard girl.

"Let's just get inside, see what's in there." The last one says as the group fades back into the Aether.

So, from that exchange I gather that Savos Aren was part of an expedition into Labyrinthian. This is the first I've heard of this, and I've never seen an Argonian at the College, so it can't have gone well.

I complete my approach to the door and examine it. Hang on... that torc! It's not strange, old-Nord jewellery, it's a door handle!

I finally get it to snap into place as the last of the sun's light vanishes over the horizon and I slip inside.

I'm greeted with a huge, empty room. Well, empty but for the skeletons that carpet the floor. I figure I'd be safe enough in here, so trusting to by body's ability to self-awaken at the same time every morning, I bed down as best I can in front of the doors.


	7. Labyrinthian

I awaken stiff and sore from the stone floor. Stretching, I gather my things together, glad I was at least undisturbed, and head towards the doors at the far end of the hall. Before I reach them, however, I find myself surrounded by the ghostly mages again.

"I can't believe we're doing this!" One says.

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces when we come back?" Savos responds gleefully.

"You keep talking like you're sure we'll find something useful in here." The Nord grumbles, frowning at the Dunmer.

"Given the history of this place, it's more than likely there's still some amount of power here." The shorter elf says, shrugging.

"Enchanted weapons, tomes of ancient knowledge, Shalidor's secrets themselves... Who knows what we could find!" Savos is still excited at the prospect.

"And what if... what if there are things guarding this place?" The Argonian's tail twitches.

"Against six college-trained mages? I think we'll be fine." The one referred to as Atmah responds as the figures fade away.

I can't help but feel anxious for them, despite knowing the most likely outcome. Savos was the only one of the group that I'd seen at all around Winterhold.

Just before I push the doors open, I spot a book sat on a dusty table in a dark alcove, and opening it up, I recognise the scripture inside as spell runes. I tuck it away for later use, then head down the ancient passageway. At the end, a lever opens the gate ahead – and awakens a horde of skeletons. Ha – too easy!

I spoke too soon. As the first pair of bony fighters scatter at my feet, a mound of dirt and stone bursts upwards, and from beneath crawls the skeleton of a dragon. There must be some powerful necromancy going on here that can resurrect a dovah in such a manner!

It is still an easier fight than against a live dragon, though, despite its immunity to my Shouts. With a final dry creak, the last of the skeletons falls, and I pass through the doors on the other side to be greeted by the ghosts again – minus the Bosmer.

"We... we have to go back. We can't leave Girduin..." Sputters the Breton.

"We barely made it out alive, and you want to go back in?!" Cries the Nord.

"What was that thing anyway?" The lizardfolk mage helps the girl to straighten up, as Atmah gazes back at the room. I'm guessing there must have been a lot more of the human skeletons when they came through.

"It's too late." The Redguard says. "There isn't enough of him left to go back in after."

"Gods, what have we done?" The Argonian sighs, comforting the sobbing Breton girl.

"We can't go back... Might as well go forward. We can still do this." Savos is, somehow, still confident.

"Savos is right." Atmah turns back to the group. We can make it if we just stay alert."

The group vanishes once more, leaving me alone in the small room. Behind where they stood, a stone tablet etched with runes tickles my curiosity.

Hail All - Brave City Bromjunaar

Forever These Walls Shall Stand

May Enemies See Her Majesty

May All Quake to Behold Her

This must have once been a grand temple to have such an engraving. I almost wish I could have seen it in its full glory.

A short way down the passage is another door, this one smaller and iron-plated. As I follow the passage on the other side, I am assaulted by a freezing wind, and a rasping voice echoing off the walls.

"Wo meyz wah dii vul junaar?" it asks, giving me a brief headache.

Once the pain clears, and the wind fades, I see before me a small room with an iced-over door at the end, with a draugr standing almost as if on guard beside it. Since the creature hasn't noticed me, I am able to sneakily shoot first, felling it in one blow. I use a flame spell to melt the ice, and I continue down the next passage, only to once again be blown off-balance by another icy gust, accompanied by another grating utterance.

"Nivahriin mux fent siiv nid aaz het."

The ache fades once more, and I spot ahead two more draugr, lurking in their upright sarcophagi. I slay them both before they can even stir, and then navigate the bridge complex beyond. A short passage, and two more draugr, then a side room with a small amount of loot inside, which I stow in my bags – I may as well gain something of value from all this!

Also in this room is another spell-book for my collection, and an alchemy lab paired with an enchanting table, both of which are still functional. I take the opportunity to get a little practice in, creating a small handful of potions and learning a new enchantment.

Continuing on along the twisting ledges and bridges, I nearly fall when the voice calls out again with its accompanying winds.

"You do not answer... Must I use this guttural language of yours?"

You've got to admit, though, it does flow better than the dragon language.

For me, this delve is easy, as I am able to attack the draugr I find first as I sneak through the twisting hallways. But I have experience in this sort of thing; the group that came through here in the past wouldn't have.

"Have you returned, Aren? My old friend?" The voice asks as I push through another door. The foes beyond fall quickly.

"Do you seek to finish that which you could not?" It continues its one-sided conversation. I focus instead on the troll in front of me that must have fallen in through the hole in the ceiling high above.

"You only face failure once more."

The next cavern holds little of interest, and the pair of skeletons beyond it are no challenge at all.

"You... you are not Aren, are you?" The speaker realises. "Has he sent you in his place?"

In a way. I leave the next area richer by a couple of nuggets and some glow dust from the wisps that used to float inside – before I came.

"Did he warn you that your own power would be your undoing? That it would only serve to strengthen me?" The voice is starting to sound a little annoyed now.

The next door is wreathed in flame, which is soon extinguished with a simple ice spell. At the end of the passage, four of the ghosts appear.

"Just another minute, please." Pants the Argonian, hands on her knees.

"Come on! We can't stop now! We have to keep moving!" Savos encourages.

"Where's Elvali?" Atmah asks, looking decidedly terrified. "She was right behind me..."

"Dead." The Nord gruffly responds. "Something grabbed her from behind. Gone before I could do anything."

"This is insanity." The lizardfolk growls. "We never should have come here."

"You're right." Atmah says. "This is all my fault. Should we turn around? Head back?"

"I don't think going back is a good idea." The tallest answers.

"Going back would be the end of all of us." Savos insists, the grief visible in his eyes. "We keep pushing forward, and we'll make it. We will!"

"Come on, you can make it." Atmah reassures her scaled companion. "Let's go."

The group fades, and I wipe a stray tear from my face. God's damned spirits getting me all caught up in their story and making me emotional...

I continue down the passage, but pause at an unusual sight. Ghost draugr. And I thought I'd seen it all already.

They prove to be as difficult as their corporeal brethren, and they leave behind their weaponry when they fall, so I gather a sword, a bow and a greatsword to add to my collection when I'm finally free of this place. They'll definitely make a good conversation piece if anything.

"Come. Face your end." I'm startled by the rasping voice once more, causing me to accidentally grab the attention of the translucent draugr and its hound with whom I currently share a room. Ah well, even then they still pose no challenge.

The rest of the ruin is as much of a maze as its common name would suggest. I definitely sympathise with the Eternal Champion, the last major hero of Tamriel who came trawling through this place, in search of a piece of the Staff of Chaos. At least I'm looking for an entire staff, not a small chunk of one!

After learning the Word from the Wall, and navigating the last few twists and turns, I find myself standing in front of another pair of massive doors, suddenly accompanied by the last three of Savos' doomed group.

"We shouldn't have left her there to die!" Atmah yells.

"What else could we do? Stay there and die with her? She refused to go on; we didn't have a choice!" Savos replies, just as distraught.

"This is it, you know." The Nord says quietly. "Through this door. Can you feel it?"

"We're not going to make it, are we?" The remaining girl sobs.

"We stay together, no matter what. Agreed?" The imposing figure says.

"I'll be right with you." She responds, taking a deep breath and drying her face.

"Agreed. We all stay together." Savos' voice echoes as they fade away.

I ready my bow, and taking a deep breath I push open the doors.

Ahead of me is a large chamber, stonework making multiple levels. Two mages kneel channelling power into a circular shield around a dragon priest, who I assume to be the owner of the grating voice from before. Studying the mages, I realise they must be the last members of Savos' expedition, enthralled somehow into keeping the priest caged. What a terrible fate... There is only one thing I can do for them.

I swiftly nock an arrow, and shoot the furthest in the back, followed by another arrow for the nearest. They both fall dead, and the shield falls, freeing the dragon priest, who immediately begins casting at me.

I keep moving and shooting, missing about a third of my shots, but the priest soon scatters into a heap of ash, leaving only his mask, his armour, and the Staff of Magnus behind. I scoop up the mask and the staff, and without a backward glance leave via a door in the back of the room.

Beyond it appears the spirit of Savos once more, looking remorseful.

"I'm sorry, friends. I'm sorry!" He says to the room behind me. "I had no choice! It was the only way to make sure that monster never escaped! I promise you, I'll never let this happen again. I'll seal this whole place away." He disappears, and I mutter a quiet prayer for the five who fell here. To have that happen to your friends, and to have to enthral the last two survivors, must have been a huge burden on the Arch-Mage's shoulders. At least he can now be with them again in Aetherius – if they'll have him.

Another gate leads into a small antechamber, with a very much alive Thalmor mage waiting for me.

"So, you made it out of there alive." He sneers. "Ancano was right... you are dangerous. I'm afraid I'll have to take that staff from you now. Ancano wants it kept safe... Oh, and he wants you dead. Nothing personal."

Is he serious? He knows I've just killed something so strong as to need two mages constantly casting to contain, and he thinks he alone can take me? I can feel my dragon-blood boiling.

"I have no quarrel with you." I try to defuse, and give him the chance to leave alive and whole.

"I'm afraid you do." Is his only verbal response, and he backs it up with a bolt of lightning. Unfortunately, I am a faster shot than he is a dodger, and my arrow lodges itself so deep in his forehead the point pokes out the other side of his head. He falls with a thud, eyes wide open. I leave them so.

I leave through a small passageway and find myself high up the mountain above the ruins. Carefully I slide down the rocks, feeling like a mountain goat as I hop from rock to stone on my descent. Waiting for me at the bottom is a troll.

I leave its hairy corpse bleeding behind me and head east along the road until I reach the crossroads, upon which I jog straight to the Windpeak Inn in Dawnstar, barely pausing at the bar to rent the room in which I collapse.


	8. Poke in the Eye with a Pointed Stick

As I leave the inn the next morning I discover one of the Khajiiti caravans has set up on the edge of town, so avail myself of their service before I continue my journey back to the College. About halfway between Fort Kastav and the town, I am stopped by a courier with a summons from Quintus; something about the White Phial. It'll have to wait a little longer though.

About halfway across the bridge to the College, the surviving wizards are gathered outside the magical barrier that has grown around the building from Ancano's attack on the Eye of Magnus.

"You survived!" Tolfdir cries when I join them. "You have it, then? Let's hope it's as powerful as the Psijics believe it to be."

"Where's Mirabelle?"

"She... she didn't make it. When it was clear we were going to have to fall back, she stayed behind and made sure the rest of us were alright. We can't crack whatever magic he's using to shield himself. I hope your trip to Labyrinthian was worth it."

Let's get in there." I say, hefting the Staff of Magnus, and preparing a lightning spell in my other hand.

"I'll be right behind you!" Tolfdir follows as I test the Staff on the barrier, quickly dissolving it allowing access to the College.

Inside the Hall of the Elements, Ancano is still casting at the huge orb, barely even glancing at us as we storm in.

"You've come for me, have you? You think I don't know what you're up to? You think I can't destroy you? The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?!"

Tolfdir casts a fireball at him, which does nothing.

"Spells have no effect!" He yells as though I hadn't noticed.

"I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic. You cannot touch me."

"The Staff! Use it on the Eye!" Tolfdir advises, but I am already doing so, causing Ancano to reel back.

'Enough!" The Thalmor grumbles as he regains his balance, stumbling again when my lightning thwacks into his chest. "Still you persist? Very well. Come then. See what I can do now!"

Tolfdir again casts his spells at him, and I alternate between my own magic, and using the staff on him as I 'recharge'. Soon enough, Ancano lies in a charged heap at my feet, his hair sticking out in all directions from under his hood. I can't help but giggle, a reaction that is cut short when I notice the Eye of Magnus is still roiling. That's worrying.

"I knew you could do it!" My mentor says, a proud smile on his wrinkled face.

"What do we do now?"

"I... I don't know. Ancano is gone, but whatever he's done to the Eye doesn't seem to have stopped. I have no idea what to do." As he finishes his sentence, Quaranir materialises behind the Eye.

"We knew you would succeed." He says in the steady cadence I have come to expect of the Psijics. "Your victory here justifies our belief in you. You have proven yourself more than worthy to guide the College of Winterhold."

"What do we do now?" I repeat myself to the orange-clad mage.

"The Eye has grown unstable. It cannot remain here, or else it may destroy your College, and this world. It must be secured. Ancano's actions prove that the world is not ready for such a thing. We shall safeguard it... for now. You now have the opportunity to maintain your College, and carry on with your lives. You have our gratitude, Arch-Mage."

Quaranir is joined by three of his fellows, and together they send the Eye of Magnus to whatever safe space they have prepared before disappearing themselves. I turn back to Tolfdir.

"You've done it!" He exclaims again. "The College is safe again, thanks to your work. I knew you had it in you. I dare say the Psijics are right. There's no-one more deserving to be Arch-Mage, in my opinion. Here; consider these yours." He gives me a bundle of robes, complete with hood, that match those Savos was wearing when we met. "And the Arch-Mage's quarters, as well. I shall be here for advice, should you need me."

"Thank-you. I wasn't really intending on sticking around for much longer – I still have much to do throughout the rest of Skyrim – but considering my new position, I guess I could at least return once a month to catch up on what's been happening. Would you mind running the College while I am away?"

"It would be an honour, Arch-Mage. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to talk to the others about what happened here." Tolfdir leaves, and I head up to the afore-mentioned quarters and avail myself of the facilities for alchemical research, enchanting, and to catch up on sleep lost over the past week.


End file.
